


The Wolf and the Mabari

by Aly_H



Series: Two Wardens and a Lady [1]
Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Friendship, Gen, Grey Warden Joining, Mahariel becomes a Warden, Major Character Injury, Pre-Dragon Age: Origins, Very very cursed., and convinced that he is cursed.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-19
Updated: 2017-04-19
Packaged: 2018-10-20 21:22:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,343
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10671024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aly_H/pseuds/Aly_H
Summary: Finding the tainted Eluvian and being Conscripted into the Wardens is only the beginning of Fen Mahariel's bad luck. At least he manages to make a friend among the Wardens.---In this version Mahariel is Joined at the same time Alistair is, so the story begins six months prior to the events at Ostagar.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is part of the "Two Wardens and a Lady" series which follows the adventures of Fen Mahariel and Falcon Surana and their allies. You can find more stories belonging to this series by following the series link.
> 
> There's a number of characters throughout this that you might recognize from the game. In addition I've fleshed out what we know about the Ferelden Wardens who were at Ostagar a bit.
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Hunt. All he had to do was hunt. Aim, draw, release. Somehow keep his hands from trembling too much he couldn’t knock the arrow. Aim, draw, release. Watch the Darkspawn choke on its own filthy black blood.

Ignore the melody, ignore the way that they seemed confused by his aggression, ignore the way that _he_ felt confused about attacking them. Ignore the fire on his skin and the ice in his veins.

Aim. Draw. Release.

Duncan and the other Wardens seemed concerned when they saw him on the return. The Dalish elf was pale under his tanned skin and his hands were shaking. If the Joining didn’t work he was going to die that night anyways, they could all see it.

The ceremony was beginning when his legs gave out and the Chantry warrior beside him grabbed him, keeping him on his feet. The Templar was another would-be-recruit. Despite Fen’s growl at being touched he held the elf upright until Duncan approached with the silver chalice and gestured for him to let the elf stand on his own.

Which he managed to do so just long enough to drink from the cup and feel a wash of darkness wash over him. Pain, but it was dull compared to a few moments before, and it seemed to dampen everything else…

Eventually the darkness and the dreams of shapes moving within it receded he began to stir, grumbling a series of curses and probably blaspheming the Creators as he did so.

“You’re alive!” the _shemlen’s_ voice was rather pleased by this statement. The elf’s green eyes cracked open just enough to glare at him before he took a deep breath and forced himself to sit up.

Taking account of his body it no longer felt like it was on fire, and his hands weren’t trembling anymore. That was…good, yes? Or bad. Some sicknesses symptoms vanished before death came. He remembered vaguely choking on some foul liquid before passing out – what was it? (Not as though he hadn’t drunk his share of questionable, potentially deadly liquids that gave him strange dreams and left him feeling like death when he woke up.)

Remembering _what_ it was didn’t help - he shot up and away, retching into the nearby bushes.

A hand gently pulled his long hair back, making sure nothing got into it. “Me too,” the blond Templar-trained recruit was admitting. “I mean, I didn’t actually throw up but my stomach was all churny too, like a bucket of worms.”

As he finished the _shemlen_ – Alistair, the other recruit’s name was Alistair – passed him a canteen of water.

“Too big for worms,” he cracked a smile, grateful to be able to wash the taste from his mouth. “Eels.”

“You know – I think you’re right,” he considered. “You feeling better? You couldn’t even stand on your own before the Joining.”

“I...it doesn’t feel like I’m dying, and I don’t hear the music anymore,” he said, tilting his head as if to listen – three days of that music that seemed to call him, and feeling both as if his skin was on fire and he’d never be warm again. Having one’s own head be silent was always a great amount of relief. “I don’t remember much of the last week though…”

“Well…we’re Grey Wardens now,” Alistair grinned.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Denerim is a great place...if you're not an elf.

There was nothing to _do_ at the Grey Warden headquarters. Duncan had encouraged him to begin to train, between the sickness and the changes that becoming a Warden had caused there were changes to his body and he needed to learn to account for them. And he did so but one could only practice so much before it became tedious.

Familiarizing oneself with the history of the Wardens and the Blight in the library had also been suggested. Alistair had even handed him a book about Garahel and suggesting that he read it.

He’d not been able to tell the enthusiastic _shemlen_ that he couldn’t read the book, and instead had thanked him more curtly than was deserved and fled. A few days later he’d left the _shemlen_ a carved griffin that he’d whittled while tucked in one of his hiding places in the gardens. He’d found a few places he could hide himself away – but there weren’t many places in this city where you could avoid _shem_.

Apparently this hall wasn’t one of them either, a sneering noble’s brat approaching him, coming from the opposite direction. He squared his shoulders, stepped to the side that he’d seen the humans use to pass one another and continued to walk – even as he saw that the nobles didn’t move from his path.

He knew these three, knew that he was likely about to get into trouble but it didn’t feel right to retreat from this either.

“Look at this rabbit,” the leader snorted, grabbing Fen’s arm as the elf went to walk past him and propelling him back.

It took a lot of fighting instincts not to lash out at that Duncan had made it clear that there’d be no tolerance if he caused bloodshed in the castle, he wasn’t even allowed to carry his weapons with him in order to ‘try and maintain the peace’. The presence of a Dalish savage made some people nervous, apparently.

He closed his green eyes for a moment, letting out a breath and clearing his mind to focus before he opened them again.

“I suggest that you let me pass by,” his voice was soft but firm as he met the human’s eyes. He did his best to keep his disgust off his face – Vaughn Kendells, he’d seen him from a distance before.

“It’s one of those forest rabbits,” Jonaley (at least he thought that’s what this one’s name was) scoffed, leaning in to take a look at the dark _vallaslin_ that decorated the upper half of his face. He stepped back to avoid the hand that reached out to prod the tattoos, but kept his posture straight and his expression flat.

Kendells raised a brow at the elf who was staring them down. “Do you know who I am, knife-ear?”

“Some _shem_ welp whose only virtue is that Fen’Harel hasn’t taken advantage of your stupidity yet?” he suggested. He knew the punch was coming – the noble brat telegraphed loudly enough that a blind grandmother could dodge it. Problem came when the other two realized that they weren’t unarmed and drew daggers.

The third member of the group (Braden?) lunged at him and he grabbed the wrist with the dagger, keeping it directed away from him, twisting into the larger body and jerking his elbow up into the human’s face, trying not to feel satisfied by the crunch of broken bone before he twisted the arm and scooped up the dagger, setting himself for another attack.

“Hey!” a group of palace guard had turned a corner and caught sight of them from behind him. Three – maybe four – if he counted the armored steps right. “Break it up, and drop the weapons, both of you!”

He waited for maybe-Jonaley to lower his blade before letting probably-Braden’s stolen weapon drop from his hand and he took a few steps back. Frowning as he tensed, waiting for the Guard Sergeant who was now shoving his way between the Dalish elf and the three noblemen to speak again.

“What’s going on here?”

“I demand you have that knife-ear arrested! The damn animal is rabid,” Kendells snapped. “He needs to be shown his place and put down.”

“Forgive me, my lord,” the Sergeant glanced over. “But I was actually asking the Grey Warden.”

“An idiotic argument getting out of hand, Ser Guard,” he said hesitantly, realizing that even if he spoke the truth it’d do nothing. “I am sorry that you had to interfere.”

“Try not to let it happen again,” the guard said, frowning some before looking at the nobles, “On your way.”

“You’ll regret this, _Guardsman_ ,” Kendells promised.

The brown haired human ran his hand through his hair, looking very tired suddenly now that the nobles were gone.

“I… _'ma serannas_ ,” Fen bowed slightly in gratitude. “Thank you.” He glanced the direction the three humans had gone. “You’ll have trouble over this won’t you?”

The guard paused to take him in – he’d been hearing rumors of the Grey Warden’s new elf for a few weeks now. He’d thought that there’d definitely be this kind of trouble when he heard that his superiors had asked the Dalish warrior go unarmed when it was no expected of the others.

“It’s fine. I regret stepping in before you taught those boys a lesson, I get too many complaints from elves about them and my superiors keep my hands tied. Their noble fathers will make life difficult for a while but it just means I’m doing my job properly,” the man shook his head as if to clear the bitterness from his thoughts: “My name’s Sergeant Kylon.”

“It’s an honor to meet you, Sergeant Kylon,” the elf smiled ever so slightly. “I guess there’s at least one decent _shemlen_ outside the Wardens after all.”

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” he guard laughed, “Be careful though – those three will be looking to cause you trouble again, and they’re not smart enough to care that you’re a Warden.”

“I will be careful,” the hunter replied.

“Maker – have a good day,” the guard switched what he was going to say halfway through, after all if the Warden was Dalish it meant he didn’t believe in the Maker.

“You as well,” the elf replied. “ _Dar’eth Shiral_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's my theory that Rylon got assigned to take care of the worse parts of town after he annoyed some noble by actually doing his job.


	3. Chapter 3

Sergeant Kylon, it turned out, was correct. The argument in the hall wasn’t the end of it. Two days later five thugs jumped him on his way out of the Warden barracks.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t known the shemlen were there, but he was so used to there being too many about and while few Fereldens could match Gregor in terms of mass they were not a tiny people. He had to wonder how any dwarves could stand being around these towering people – and he was tall by elvish standards!

One unarmed elf against five armed and armored humans wasn’t a fair match, and this lot knew how to fight. They were the sort hired to make sure a message was sent.

Fen managed to put down two before one managed to get a grip on his arm and carry him into the wall, another grabbing his other arm as he tried to break free and these two got him to the floor, pinned and not able to do much of anything.

“Boss wants his hands broken, hold him still,” the third said, approaching with a hammer when a warrior’s shield smashed into him from behind, sending him face first into the wall and knocking him unconscious.

As soon as the second thug was up to confront Alistair Fen managed to twist free break the third’s neck.

Alistair grinned at him, “You know, Fen, you got an interesting way of making friends.”

“Tell me about it,” he grumbled before noticing something sharp in his side, blinking as he looked down. That dagger hadn’t always been there, right?

“Holy Andraste! Don’t pu-!” Alistair started forward, but too late as the dagger was already yanked free and Fen was getting that light-headed feeling that accompanied blood loss.

_Well, at least this time Merrill can’t try to heal me_ , he thought as he toppled into Alistair’s grasp.

The smell of herbs made him sneeze as he came to – and then swear as that shot pain through his body and then he just groaned as swearing made it worse not better.

“Good morning,” Alistair’s all too cheerful voice made him scowl and look over. The warrior had a few scrapes from the fight but he seemed to be doing alright. “I figured someone should stay in case whoever hired those guys was stupid enough to try again.”

“Your _shem_ nobles make Darkspawn look friendly,” Fen pushed himself up and blinked at the _glowing_ bandages. “Um….”

“Duncan agreed to have you test a mage invention. Which is also why I’m here, in case magic started going awry or something I was supposed to stop you from being turned into a toad.”

“Magic can’t turn people into toads. Well it can, but only if they’re mages and they _want_ to be toads. And why in Mythal’s name would you _want_ to be a toad? At least frogs you can swim – and why in the Creator’s name am I talking so much?”

“Side-effect of healing magic?”

“Not usually for me,” the elf grumbled.

“Don’t worry Fen, I won’t tell anyone about your fantasies to become a frog, I promise.”

“I wouldn’t want to be a frog, if I could I’d be a mountain cat. What do you humans call them again – _vherithas_. The ones that don’t have tails, and are really fuzzy.”

Alistair – trying not to laugh, “A lynx?”

“Uh-huh. Or maybe a wolf, but that’s too obvious and wolves are meant to be in a pack not alone. Can’t be alone and be a wolf or that’s too sad.”

“So you think one of the nobles wants to cause you trouble?”

“I embarrassed that Kendells brat and his friends. The one with the pig-face? That guard sergeant said he’d probably try and get even. Hope getting me stabbed was good enough. Don’t think I made anyone else angry enough to try killing me yet.”

“You planning on annoying more people?”

“Not on purpose, _lethallin_ , but it seems to happen quite a bit,” he yawned, settling back down. “This hasn’t really been a good year for me either, convincing a few more people that they want to murder me seems like a perfectly reasonable thing to expect at this point. I feel like Fen’Harel is following me ever since me and Tamlen found those _shems_ in the woods.”

“Tamlen?”

“Uh-huh. My best friend, he found that stupid taint-mirror with me, or well, I found it with him. I didn’t want to look,” tears pricked at his eyes. “We were supposed to be looking for herbs for Merrill. He was going to ask her to bond with him – kept trying to figure out how to get her a good gift to ask. That’s probably why he insisted on looking in that stupid ruin, try to find her something she’d like. Merrill’s the First – and she likes elvish history and there was writing everywhere but instead we found that mirror and he vanished and I got sick.” Tears were falling now but the words weren’t going to stop, were they? “Then Duncan came and told the Keeper I would die if I wasn’t a Warden and she sent me away.”

Alistair’s hands on his shoulders startled him out of the memories, concern obvious in the younger man’s face.

“I-please don’t tell anyone.”

“We’re brothers, remember?” Alistair smiled. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Except maybe if they offered a truly indecent amount of cheese and you could hardly blame me then, because it’s cheese.”

“I’ll blame you if it’s not fancy cheese.”

“Alright,” the former Templar grinned – “I’ll only betray your secrets in exchange for fancy cheese.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fen won't remember most of this conversation later on - he's too out of it with the healing magic.  
> And it's this side effect that causes Amell to have to go back to the drawing board with them. Well that and they turn humans green. She's not sure why.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fen got into a bit of a brawl with some soldiers prior to this conversation.

“So, what slur was it this time?” the rough voice belonged to a Warden originally from the Free Marches. A few years younger than Duncan with brown hair already striping with far more gray than Duncan’s did, though his well-trimmed beard had somehow managed to stay bright red. Deryck Hendyr was leaning against the fence that ran along the back of the archery yard watching the hunter bury arrow after arrow in the center.

The elf grimaced – an action which caused his split lip crack open again - but instead of answering asked: “And how long until I get the ‘you are a Grey Warden before you’re an elf’ lecture?”

“Not getting it this time. I told Duncan I’d handle it and you know what you are, problem’s those other lads,” was the reply, and the human settled himself on the fence to watch the archery practice. “Keeping you cooped up in Denerim is just going to drive you crazy but Duncan doesn’t want you or Alistair in the Deep Roads until you can sense the Spawn reliably otherwise I’d suggest bringing you to Orzammar with us.”

The elf collected his arrows out of the target before joining the human on the fence, not quite sure what to say.

“The Teryn of Highever is hosting a tourney to find us a recruit,” Deryck considered. “I’ll see if I can get you and Alistair sent along for that.”

“Out of Denerim and away from the Arl’s son?” he snorted, things had been getting worse in the palace and he was already restricted to the Warden’s compound. “And away from comments about how if you stand Alistair beside the King they might as well be brothers?”

That got a sharp glance, “Maker’s tears, Mahariel - How much do you overhear sneaking about the castle like you do?”

“Enough to begin to guess, not nearly enough to understand _shemlen_.”

“I’m not sure anyone really understands humans – ourselves included,” the Kirkwaller snorted, thinking of the home he’d left to become a Warden. Well, it was the Wardens or end up with a Carta blade in his kidney, Darkspawn seemed less dangerous at the time. “You going to tell Alistair you know?”

“I don’t know anything. He has kept it a secret for a reason, and I did not repay his kindness in the measure I should have.”

The older Warden regarded the recruit curiously. Personally, he found the young man to be a little prickly but quite reasonable. Though he had to wonder when he would get tired of expecting people to behave at a higher standard only to be disappointed by them.

Riordan had expressed a concern over the resentment that Fen felt over the Conscription - the fact that had his Keeper not ordered it he would have rather died among the Dalish than lived as a Warden. For a while given his silence and general unfriendliness it’d looked like Riordan had been right to worry. It’d been old Kherek two months before who’d finally got the young man to say more than a few words, and started getting the elf to open up not long before he left for his Calling:

“How’d you manage that?” Gregor had asked as the dwarf joined them.

The elf the dwarf had just finished talking to was hesitantly going to take a seat near Alistair – beginning a slow conversation. The friendly former Templar had been happy enough to engage in though, either unaware of the elf’s hesitance or not making a note of it as that would likely have the slightly older recruit bottling up again.

“Thought you were a surfacer,” the old dwarf snorted, raising a hand as Duncan and Richu joined the other two senior wardens at the table. “You never seen a wolf before?”

“What’s that got to do with anything?” the Anders asked.

“Think the kid got the name ‘Fen’ by being friendly?”

“’Fen’ is _elvhen_ for ‘wolf’,” Tarimel supplied in his usual short manner. The Tevinter born elf rarely did more than glare, but he got on well enough with overly-friendly Gregor (at least they assumed he did as the two had been sharing sleeping arrangements for the last two years now) so he sat with them during meals. “Not a nickname that would be earned easily among the Dalish.”

“So you’re saying the kid’s feral or something?”

“Thing about wolves is that they hunt, but they do it _for_ something. Protect their pack or feed their pack, their actions aren’t about themselves but the family they’re a part of- it’s why they’re able to be so vicious. Right now the kid thinks he’s not _got_ a pack. He’ll kill Darkspawn just fine but he won’t try to survive it, and he won’t be looking to protect those he’s with either.”

Duncan had considered the comparison and what he had seen of the young man – even knowing it meant his death he remembered the desperation with which Fen had pleaded with his Keeper not to send him away. The broken resignation as the Keeper acknowledged the Conscription. “So your suggestion is to make him view the Wardens as his Clan?”

“Not us,” the dwarf had said, scratching the black casteless tattoo on his cheek. “Your puppy. Wolves and dogs sometimes make packs. Your Alistair is so Ferelden he might as well be Mabari. Once he’s seeing Alistair as part of his Clan he’ll be able to accept being a Warden. May never like you, Duncan, but he’ll stop thinking this life’s a curse. Might even manage to survive his first real battle.”

So like so many times before regarding how to make a sharp-edged recruit into one of them old Kherek had been right. Alistair’s friendship – the fact that the two of them spoke a similar language of honor and loyalty had been the key.

He’d taken on the position of Fen’s mentor mainly because they were both archers. He preferred his crossbow and wore considerably heavier armor than the young rogue but when it came to ‘where to hit Darkspawn so it hurts’ there wasn’t a better teacher now that Taramel had been transferred to Nevarra.

Besides, the way the kid had to be prodded (not always gently) in order to remember to bow to nobility or royalty was amusing – and while fully capable of remembering and reciting every title and proper form of address that he’d been told the elf refused to actually _use_ them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARDENS, WARDENS EVERYWHERE! Most of the ones mentioned in this chapter exist in-canon but there aren't a lot of details about them so the more specific details are probably things I've made up.
> 
> Deryck Hendyr - A senior Warden, related to the more familiar Hendyr you know from Kirkwall. They're cousins. Entirely an OC with no reference in Canon except that I felt like Fen needed a Duncan of his own.  
> Kherek - Dwarven Warden assigned to Ferelden, goes on his Calling right before the Blight so the conversation that Deryck is recalling is just a bit before the dwarf departs.  
> Gregor - Human Warden from the Anderfels, you might recall him as the one whose name Alistair couldn't recall precisely that likes to drink. I've made him the Warden's field medic  
> Tarimel - Elvish Warden that doesn't speak much and has a rough past. As there was no mention as to where he was from I decided to make him an escaped Tevinter slave.


	5. Chapter 5

The road to Highever was relatively calm until a small band of Darkspawn emerged out of the network of coastal caves that connected to the Deep Roads and honeycombed this part of the Storm Coast. It was Fen who spotted the emissary first, shouting a warning before he shoved Alistair out of the path of a spell and took the force of it himself, sending him tumbling down one of the steep cliff-like bluffs that made up most of this part of the country.

It’d been a small group, ten or so including the Darkspawn mage – and with Alistair’s abilities as a Templar the emissary was hardly the problem it might’ve been.

Fen was alive when they found him - his clothes and hair slightly singed from the fireball that had sent him over (rolling down the hill had put the fire out and prevented further burns) and scraped from the hillside, the young man had already been in the process of attempting to straighten his leg so he could splint the broken bone.

“Never thought I’d have to worry about _you_ being the reckless one,” Hendyr was scolding the elf as Gregor was wrapping the leg and splint so that it’d stay secure.

“The fall would’ve hurt more in heavy,” the hunter pointed out – doing that thing that elves sometimes did when they shortened Trade the same way one did elvish – this statement was accompanied by a glare as well.

Gregor handed him a healing potion which got a face and a mutter but the elf drank it in one go, still making a face as he set the bottle down.

Glancing back up the steep incline Deryck realized that there _was_ a good chance that had Alistair been the one punted off the side with the addition of his heavier armor there’d been more of a chance they’d be preparing a pyre rather than figuring out how to get the injured elf to a healer.

“Don’t glower, Hendyr – he’ll heal and besides, Tarimel owes me five sovereigns now. He said it’d take more than six months for Fen here to get himself hurt protecting a _shemlen_. We’re going to Val Royeaux the next time we get time off if within a year the wolf takes up with a human lover.”

“Never going to happen.”

“There’s a bet you’re going to lose,” the other human promised at the same time Fen had snapped.

Duncan meanwhile was looking over the Dalish elf, a hint of amusement crossing his features: “You know, most recruits wait until they get to the Deep Roads to collect the number of injuries that you have. How are you feeling?”

“I’ve had worse,” the elf gave a shrug, still looking like he wanted to pick a fight with a dragon (and knowing Fen he might attempt it if one was available for fighting). “I might need help getting upright though.”

Alistair was there and helping the hunter to his foot, providing him with support to limp along until they could get back to the road and a farmer and his hands taking their crops to the market in Highever gave the group of Wardens a ride – chatting with Gregor.

“Um…thanks,” Alistair murmured once he was certain the others weren’t paying attention. Hendyr was telling Duncan about rumors regarding warriors in the area that might be good fits for the Wardens now. And Duncan was saying something about visiting the Circle for a recruit.

“Stop looking guilty and hand me my pack,” Fen grumbled, opening his eyes as a bump in the road jarred his leg. Alistair did as told, at least on the second part, and watched as Fen pulled out a stem of dried elfroot and broke a length off to chew on before settling back.

Seeing the guilt hadn’t abated the elf sighed, “ _Lethallin_ , if the situation had been reversed would you have taken a blow on my behalf?”

“Absolutely,” came the instant reply.

“Then stop looking like that. I might not have chosen to be a Warden or to live among the _shemlen_ like this but you are my brother now. Let me act as such.” After the human gave him a grin and a nod Fen smirked and added: “Plus, I’m older so that means it’s my job to take care of you. Stop fussing.”

“And three years makes you sooo much wiser than me,” Alistair rolled his eyes.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! 
> 
> Kudos and comments are utterly adored (seriously, I live for validation) and appreciated!


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